On the Road
by Victoriam Speramus
Summary: AU. He was looking for the story of his life; she was looking for her freedom. POTENTIALLY ABANDONED! See profile for more info.
1. The Hitchhiker

_**Disclaimer: DA is not mine. Blah blah, what a surprise.  
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**_**-On the Run**-

Chapter 1: The Hitchhiker

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_October, 2009_

Lately, things were not going quite right for Logan Cale.

First it had been his heart. Daphne, his fiancée, dumped him, out of the blue, and now, less than a month later, the thing that would enlighten his mood and that would write his name in the history of the Pacific Free Press, a unique and amazing story that would expose the twisted priorities of the government even after an event as catastrophic as the Pulse had been, had collapsed and ended before he even began typing the first sentence.

Aaron Valentine, the man who'd been claiming to be a med tech in a secret government facility had been murdered - _rather silenced_, Logan thought - and now, with no evidence more than the few lines the tech exchanged with him, with no names of the people involved, with no other starting point, the whole story had been reduced to only a possible urban legend.

And Logan had wanted to do that at least, in memory of the poor man, but his _code _as a journalist stopped him from doing so. Truth was the only goddess worthy to be praised for, and publishing something that had no real evidence was tantamount to heresy, and such a thing could cost him not only his work but his newly formed reputation. Mostly, he wanted Herrero to be proud for giving him the job in the PFP to him, not to be ashamed.

On the other hand, Logan was almost sure that Manticore, as the man had told him the project was called, knew his identity. He believed he was the reason why Valentine had been found with a hole in his forehead in his backyard, but nobody had gone after him. Perhaps they hadn't considered him such a threat, and certainly he wasn't now that he was about 45 miles from Gillette somewhat fleeing in terror. Logan was sure as hell that his sense of self-preservation was still intact - mostly, at least.

Even when this new and unpleasant sense of fear for his life flooded his body, he sort of promised to Valentine's ghost he'd expose Manticore eventually. Maybe not in a month, maybe not in that year, but he would. It was only a matter of starting all over again, finding another informant or so, digging somewhere else.

But they wouldn't be safe. Manticore had become his story to be published.

Repeating the thought until he wrote it down in a mental post-it, he almost didn't note the beautiful young woman hitchhiking on the roadside. Surely he would have seen her feminine form as he passed her by, but he'd have kicked himself mentally for not having stopped. A few yards ahead he pulled over and opened the window from the passenger side, barely an inch, seeing her come to him with such a natural grace.

_Ah, you Moron Cale. Is not like you can trust just some sweet chick standing aside a dark road..._

As she leaned down, her big brown eyes hypnotized him. She wasn't just beautiful, she was stunning. He did notice the suggestion of her look and he felt her gaze drifting through his body, which sent shivers down his spine, taking his thoughts away from wondering why would be a girl like her in such a lonely road in the middle of the night. She just smiled and bit her lower lip gently.

Logan blushed -and then remember how to speak, smiling shyly back to the beauty goddess in front of him. "Where are you going?" he asked cordially, his fingers tentatively dancing on the door panel.

"I'm going to Buffalo," she replied with a voice so harmonious that was music to his ears.

When did he unlock the passenger's door? He had no idea and didn't notice until he figured he was motioning the young lady to get into the car. However, the smile with which she thanked him became the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his almost twenty one years of life...

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TBC...**


	2. A ride away from Home

**-On the Road-**

Chapter 2: A ride away from Home

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The first escape hadn't been her idea.

But she remembered the uncertainty of not knowing what lay beyond the vast frozen forest where she trained countless hours a week, she remembered not wanting to split -they were siblings, they were supposed to stick together, weren't they?

She remembered how awful and unearthly was everything outside, one thing after another that she had never lived before, that she didn't understand, and all of sudden the pain and abuse she and her brothers had suffered back at Manticore appeared to be the only thing that made sense in her life.

And even worse was to remember the content in the Colonel's face as, one by one, they returned defeated to the base.

Vada and Seth were the ones that didn't come back, and the satisfaction and pride that at least they would be living a better life disappeared as soon as their bodies were found in Iowa. Zack always grimaced at the thought -he had told them to separate. How sick to be mad at that when they were dead. As for the others... the idea that something had been able to kill two X5 on cold blood was terrifying, and the desire and hunger for freedom quickly faded as the spring came that year.

Now, nine years later, she knew the chaos that ruled the country after the Pulse. Once again, the escape hadn't been her idea; it was Zack who gave them the courage to try it again. This time she didn't hesitate to follow her big brother's mandates, she didn't care having to separate if that meant she could be closer to have a life of her own.

They were on their late teens or their early twenties. Now they were stronger and more intelligent, and like that first time they were deadlier than any of the soldiers inside the facilities. However, they had an advantage they hadn't nine years ago: they had no fear.

* * *

It was around midnight and darkness bathed the desolate road. The average human eye could not see more than the spots the occasional car headlights illuminated. But Max -she didn't even considered herself human, and between her amazing night vision and her enhanced hearing -she surely had much cat and bat in her DNA-, lights weren't necessary to observe, from the top of the monumental tree she was hidden in, the vehicles crossing the battered highway. She needed to hitchhike, and unfortunately for her, even in the middle of the night were only women, buses and families who passed by. It sucked. Her best bet would have to be a man.

"Easy, easy. Hang on a little longer and you'll have your reward," she told her grunting stomach that hadn't eaten anything for over a day. Of course she could take up to six days without aliments, but thas was an experiment she was so not willing to repeat in a short or long term.

Another SUV appeared in the distance, and when the vehicle was within half a mile away she discovered that he was a man -a lonely man indeed the one who was driving. She smiled a little mischievous and jumped from the tree, moving like a blur through the plants to stand beside the road, clearly asking for a ride.

She just prayed for him not to be blind. Or gay.

A little further he stopped and Max quickly moved to the passenger door. The boy was handsome and Max could not help but roam her gaze through his body, or what she could see at least. She could hear the beating of his heart increased with the action, and the next thing she knew was that the man was asking where she was heading.

"I'm going to Buffalo," she replied briefly but still with that air of sensuality that she needed to convince him.

She felt actually kind of sorry for guys - for the average ones at least, and only sometimes. They were prisoners of their genes. But that was a necessary bad and back in Manticore she had learned she could use such behavior to her favor. So she wasn't surprised when she heard a click -the lock was gone and then, smiling, she swung the door open and the closing sound came almost immediately. The young man went back to the road, but not before looking through the rear view mirror, with something that Max identified as fear.

And that freaked her out as well.

Either way it had been just a flash in his face and soon they were moving away from where he picked her up. Askance, she could admire his face staring at the road, almost without daring to look at her, and suddenly she felt uncomfortable, recalling that she had imagined a pervert devouring her with his eyes or a man chattering the whole way, not someone so quiet. "My name is Max," she introduced herself with a cheerful voice, trying to ease up the atmosphere in which they were. Leaving Manticore behind her back was, surprisingly, not enough. The road itself had to be more pleasant and somewhat that expression of the boy did nothing to change that.

He started, and after turning his face toward her, he seemed to calm down. He smiled -and Max had to admit that his smile was beautiful. "Quite a name for a girl."

"I've been told," she shrugged, not even sure if that was true or if she was just following him. "What's yours?"

"Logan," he replied.

Max smiled and buckled her belt. From now she'd remember him every time she heard that name.

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**TBC...**

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**_Thanks to each and every one of you who reviewed the beginning._


	3. Moments of Comfort

_So here comes Chapter 3. Thank you for all the kind reviews. Hope you'll like this one._

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**-On the Road-****  
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Chapter 3: Moments of Comfort_**  
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Darkness lay ahead, and both stayed in a more comfortable silence, almost lonely in the night. Though that was OK with him, didn't seem to suit her. They didn't pass by other vehicles often, but he could see the subtle movements of her hands, of her head, every once in a while, when someone else passed aside them, as if scared, as if hiding.

"You're running away," he observed after a long moment, his eyes still focused on the road before them.

Her breath caught in her throat at his sudden discovery.

Either way it was just a moment in which he took her by surprise, and Logan thought it had been only his imagination, that she hadn't reacted at his appraisal. But there was something else. There was no other way she would be traveling with no more luggage than her own body. To his credit, she ended up nodding to his observant eye. "Am I that obvious or you just happen to be a bit intuitive?," she grinned, replying with a question of her own.

"I'd say a _lot_ a bit intuitive, but that's up to you," he praised himself, earning another bright smile from her, "that's sort of how I make my living. Problems at home?"

Max laughed ruefully and, tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear, turned her gaze to the window, watching the huge trees disappear one after another. "Don't take it personal, I like you, but I don't feel like discussing my burdens with some stranger I've just met on the road."

"Well, Max, sometimes a stranger is the perfect person to talk," Logan said, his face barely moving to get a glimpse of hers, so young and so tired. "Sometimes it's easier to tell your problems to someone outside them. And let me recall you were the one hitchhiking, so don't come to me saying you're afraid of strangers," he finished, smiling.

_I tried_, he thought as no response came from her full lips, as she kept her stare into the nothing, into the darkness that surrounded them. He didn't notice, but his words were having an impact, slowly melting the walls of Max's defense system until her sight returned to the front, to the road, to the things to come. She sighed, and before she realized she was already talking. "I'm just sick of everything. I don't wanna do what he tells me to do. I don't wanna be what he wants me to be."

"Parents often have this sense of believing they know what their children need."

Max choked on his words, feeling comprehended - also misunderstood. Of course it wasn't as if she would tell him the truth about her, the ugly truth behind her existence, behind her life; that she was not speaking of her father but about a sick man looking for a perfect soldier, a human weapon. The thing she actually was. Besides...

Even if she didn't want it, even if she hated him with all her soul -that was, if there was such a thing as a soul- Lydecker was, in his own strange, sick, weird and very disgusting way, the closest thing to a father than a manmade creature as she was could ever have.

She just nodded, tears formed in her eyes as the realization hit her.

"A vision of the future, a mission that they believe their children need... I've been there," his voice trailed off, recalling the disappointment in his father's face when he said he didn't want to work the company. He often wished he had done different. Perhaps he would have been there when everything went to hell.

"Yeah, but I don't think you had to bear half of what I've lived with my _old man_," she laughed bitterly and tilted her head, resting it slightly in the glass of the window.

It was probably the journalist inside of him, urging his own curiosity to probe deeper, to learn more about the girl next to him, but Logan felt she had left the matter open, ready to receive an invitation to talk about it. However, seeing her so tired, trying to get some rest, her previously happy eyes now closed, Logan decided not to find out more. If she wanted to speak, he would listen to her, but only if she needed...

"I couldn't help but notice that you have Washington plates. What are you doing around here?" She asked, sensing that the conversation was spinning more and more around her, with his voice wrapping her slowly in a familiarity she had only experienced with her siblings. She felt as if she could trust him, as if at any time she could begin to tell that guy about Manticore, about what she was. She didn't want to.

And he noted the abrupt change of subject, but he let her drop it and replied, "I'm a journalist. I was going to meet with a contact, but... uhm, let's say that he wasn't available anymore," he said with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"Sorry," said Max unchalantly, opening her eyes once again.

Buffalo lights were present at the end of the road, announcing the end of this little adventure beside him. Max extended her gaze beyond what Logan could see -even if he didn't have to wear those glasses. Buffalo looked desolate, dirty, ugly compared to the place where she had found herself in the first escape. It was sad.

It was perfect.

After the Pulse the US had changed drastically. From being a World Power, it became a Third World nation in less than five minutes. All information stored in computers in the West Coast was deleted, all the great technology had gone downhill, and starting from scratch hadn't been easy. Between chaos and all the money that had dissappeared, it had been necessary to acquire technology -mostly obsolete- of other countries; an enormous, expensive task. Few companies had reopened, and the precarious telecommunication services were mainly for some government departments. And the richer. _Logan might have some money._ After all she'd seen the thin cellphone resting in the cup holder, and his SUV wasn't in poor condition...

Leaving aside such thought, Max figured that disappearing was going to be quite easy. She had managed to avoid the retrieving teams for almost a day. From there, it was unlikely that Lydecker would get a hold on her.

She just wished her brothers had the same luck.

"Hmh... Max?"

"Huh?"

"What else do you have planned?" Logan asked with some hesitation. "Do you have somewhere to stay when we get to Buffalo, are you going to continue?"

She half lied. "Well, actually I'm using this new motto, you know, I'm making it up as I go." She wasn't sure where she was heading from there. As soon as she was away from Gillette, she'd cross the Canadian border. Or maybe she'd go south, to Mexico, where it was warmer. Either way, Max would build a small, insignificant but quiet life without having to follow more rules than those she'd make. Following the destiny she'd choose for herself.

"I think I'll spend the night here. So, if you have nothing better to do and want to catch some rest, well, you can..." he trailed off, not finding the right words for such proposal, not wanting a misunderstanding.

"Stay with you?" Max completed and at the same time asked, aware that Logan seemed to have difficulty finishing his offer. _That's cute_, she thought. She could almost swear he was a gentleman, but actually she had no experience with that type of men to make a comparison.

The smile on her face widened to see how his cheeks glowed red. He nodded.

"I could use some rest," she accepted, the grin spreading across her features, reaching her eyes.

* * *

The motel was small, dirty and expensive. It didn't worth a penny, but it was the first they found, and who knew, it could also be the best -or the only one- in town. The room had a queen size bed, a sofa, bathroom and a TV with a battered white sheet attached to the black screen. 'No Signal'. Logan was not surprised at this, and he actually didn't care if the television stations in the region hadn't resumed operations yet... of if the TV set worked, for a start. He had too many things to think about right then. Just for that -and because he was running out of fuel- he was not driving toward Seattle.

Max came after him and closed the door, her eyes pensively walking across the room. He thought he read her mind, "I'll take the couch," he said, taking one of the pillows on the bed.

But apparently that was not what had been bothering her. She captured his arm, firmly but gently, and he turned to face her, her tempting form so close to him. "I have to pay you some way," she said with a smirk, letting her eyes stroll of his own to his lips, capturing them in a deep, slow kiss, not giving him time enough to protest, but giving her time enough to know, certainly, that it was going to be better than she had been waiting for.

* * *

Logan didn't often complain about his vision despite it was far away from good, not to say perfect. It was something he'd been born with. Perhaps it was because of the whole _everything happens the way it's supposed to_ thing his mother used to say when he was a little kid, and Logan liked to think that perceiving the world as a huge blur was not something bad but something he should live with. Now, by the other hand, he couldn't deny that it was irritating being unable to admire the exact details of her golden skin, and he wasn't willing to ruin the simple perfection of the moment by trying to reach for his glasses, also risking to awake her in the awkward process.

He didn't want anything else but feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his. He didn't want to stop feeling the rhythm of her steady breath tickling his chest.

So after a while staying lazily in bed, getting up and taking a shower and start the new day were tasks he found rather annoying. He resisted the urge to kiss her forehead -after all, they didn't know each other for such an intimate gesture, and instead he only breathed deeply into her brown curls. It smelled of dust, sweat, and her, but there was no trace of another fragrance.

It was odd. Women's hair always smelled of something.

Or maybe not. Maybe he had gotten used to all those aromas in Daphne's blond strands.

* * *

A loud screech, followed by the sound of running water brought Max back from her unusual true and deep sleep. In a quick, barely noticeable movement, Max was out of bed in a fighting pose, and it was not until the harsh yellow sheets fell from her hips to the floor that she noticed her current state of complete nudity. Pictures of the events of the night passed before her brown eyes, and then she let her body relax as a small smile of satisfaction appeared softly on her face.

She looked reflectively at Logan's wristwatch, resting quietly on the ground and picked it up to see the time. What was it doing there? Oh yeah. She snatched it and threw it away. The quartz screen felt cold when he touched her. She didn't enjoy a lot the feeling.

Funny, thought Max. Even only minutes before arriving at the motel, sex was just a dirty, deplorable activity with purely reproductive purposes -and for those she considered ordinary people. The first time she came into heat, Max hadn't understood nothing of what had happened to her, and indeed not doctors and laboratory technicians. Apparently only a dozen of the women had suffered such failure, and all of them were involved in endless physical and psychological studies that left her thinking it was an unpleasant, undesirable, bad thing. Later she learned to take advantage of that, which did not help her image of it. And then...

Then she escaped for the second time. Then she met Logan.

It had been wonderful, she had to admit it. She had spent the darkness of the night giving into sensations she had never felt before. At first, Logan's reaction to her _payment_ had been what she expected, what an average prisoner of his genes man would do. Then, when her frantic, wild kisses were contrasted with his gentle nibbling, when her hands that had learned from books and documentaries where touch, where to tease, met with strong hands that seemed to have the same wisdom product of its own experience, Max just let herself go, let her body and mind to reach heights she didn't think were attainable.

She entangled her body back in the sheets, returning to her previous position in the mattress, smelling him on the side where he had slept, were his body should be. It was magical, and Max had to laugh at her chosen word. She figured out it might be a cologne, a deodorant, the kind of stuff ordinary people bought... it was fascinating, though, the male fragrance mixed with sweat, with passion. Her finger began to trace nonsense patterns where his body should be, her mind just wandering around the night events; Manticore and everything else buried deep down for a eternal, blissful second.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Max blushed and returned her hand to her body, pressing it against her chest. She turned to be lying flat on her back. "Uhm, just wondering... I'm not sure what to do next."

"You can take a shower," he said with a smile as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He looked younger, healthier; he looked better than any other male she had ever seen.

It hadn't been the sort of suggestion that she had expected to hear. Max had imagined hundreds of possible scenarios where he said she could continue to travel with him or even argued that they could not stay together because he still had things to do in the region. Another part of her had been waiting for an echo of the night, of all the wonders she had met. However, the simple comment made her smile. "Is there hot water?" she asked with a childish voice.

Logan chuckled and nodded. "You must want breakfast as well. Let me see what I can get out there."

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Water started running cold and Max turned off the shower before more icy drops could touch her silky skin. There was only a light trace of disappointment in her face, but five minutes of boiling water had been sufficient to remove the tension from her stressed body and forget the two minutes cold showers in Manticore. Another point in favor of the nasty broken world.

She stepped out of the shower and waved her hand across of the mirror, removing the thin layer of steam which covered it. Her fresh face greeted her on the other side of the reflection, the corners of her lips twisting up into a goofy grin she couldn't help. There she was, beside herself with joy. It was the first time she looked at herself as a truly free woman, confident that she would not return to Manticore as another of its lab rats. That image of her face clean, full of vigor and excitement, ready for the challenges that would put the future, it was the first impression she had of her new life. It was the glorious end of an inglorious stage, and the promising start of a so much better one.

Max emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a dingy white towel of questionable hygiene, her hair up, fixed in a turban. Logan hadn't come back, so there was no fear of someone taking a look at her designer's label. A few minutes later she was wearing the same black pants that she had escaped with and a red shirt she borrowed from Logan's bag. She threw down the towel with which she had covered her body, and after thinking a bit decided to hold hair hair back with the other one, thinking it was better to keep dry the soft, clean cotton fabric that covered her chest.

_Ready to go_, Max thought. She could continue with the boy until his arrival at Washington and from there take off to Canada or wherever. The only thing that mattered was to drop off the radar screen, and keep it that way forever. Yet she wasn't so far from Manticore, and that made her a little nervous, but she knew that during the day the efforts to find her and the other would be more... discrete, not to say minimal. Despite the chaos, the government would not risk exposing the project chasing them during daylight.

However, it wasn't a hot day and people would find weird that she was wearing only a short-sleeved shirt, and Max began to rummage in Logan's belongings for any extra jacket. When she found it, well, Max also realized how quickly she could change her priorities, finding herself digging deeper and deeper into his clothes.

No way she had suddenly changed her genetically enhanced killing machine background by perverted stalker. Max noticed that in the bottom of the navy blue bag was somewhat flat. At the end of her unexpected exploration her curiosity was rewarded with a black fur-lined folder with some university logo. Her fingers danced all over the impression, tracing the big capital letters of its name. _Y-A-L-E_.

It was in her nature to be curious, and Max certainly wanted to know what Logan was up to if she wanted to consider to extending her travel with him, and her index finger was soon slipping under the cover, waiting for the final order to flip it open.

It never came.

She found herself dumbfounded with the heat behind her back, with the sunlight illuminating the small room. Wasn't supposed to be cold? Max frowned at that, taking a glance to the folder resting calmly in her hands, as if seeing it for the first time. She dropped it as she realized the door was open, and turned slowly to meet him once again, unsure of what his reaction would be.

But the sudden sight of the gun pointed directly at her forehead took her off guard. An unknown feeling of uncertainty crossed her body as she saw the strong, large hand holding the trigger.

And in his face, nothing but the grim, cruel determination that he was going to pull it.

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**TBC...**

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_And this was dedicated to you Meg. You better take care of Aurek or this will turn into an awful MA piece..._

_(Kidding, you know I'd never do that)_


	4. The Ugly Truth

_**Disclaimer: Needless to say, but I don't own Dark Angel, just the silly idea that gave birth to this story and the computer where it's been written.**__**  
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__Here's Chapter 4. I must say this story is so much easier to write than the others, since I thought it'd be a good idea to write some sort of plan before going into a point of no return. I feel almost brilliant. Hah.__ Still this chapter took a while to get finished, so I hope you like it._

_In another topic, I'm currently writing a new chapter for _With the face of the Devil_, and also I'm seriously thinking of deleting _The Cale Agenda_. Don't get me wrong, I haven't given up with it, only that I need to rewrite it. There are a few (or should I say many?) inconsistencies that I'd want to fix before it turns into a complete mess (now's just a half mess ;-)_

_Reviews are highly appreciated as always, so thanks to all those who had left some feedback during this road :)  
_

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**-On the Road-**

Chapter 4: The Ugly Truth

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_But the sudden sight of the gun pointed directly at her forehead took her off guard. An unknown feeling of uncertainty crossed her body as she saw the strong, large hand holding the trigger._

_And in his face, nothing but the grim, cruel determination that he was going to pull it._

So he did, unsuccessfully. What a shame, he thought...

But what else could he have expected from an X5?

* * *

_An hour before..._

Agent Wendy Gilmore's fingers flew over the keyboard as she kept communication with the net of contacts she had personally built after the Pulse. Fighting the crime over the country had become quite a hard task after the attack, but her charming personality had led her to people who was willing to collaborate in order to serve to the US, or even those who only wanted the benefits of the given help. So, today's work was pretty much what she did at her office back in Cheyenne, but didn't mean it was easier.

Problemo was, she felt like being torn between looking for a journalist or some teenagers that had escaped from one of the oh so many secret facilities Government had all over the country but one of the few that actually still worked. It was kind of weird when she thought about it. US invested in weapons and military contracts that would help national security, not some health research, that was for pharmaceutical companies. It wasn't as if their priority right now should be to have a healthy population when there was an economy that needed to be rescued and a crime wave that needed to be solved.

However, she wasn't getting paid for questioning her Government's priorities, and her superior, one of the biggest role models in her life, had assigned her to such task, so she continued her apparent perpetual stare to the shining monitor.

Dr. Elizabeth Renfro and Colonel Donald Lydecker, heads of the Project, loitered like vultures around her small figure, having a not so nice conversarion. At least, Gilmore thought, the heated discussion that was unnerving to most of people around, including herself, had nothing to do, at least directly, with the work she was doing: while the Doctor believed that the priority was to find Logan Cale, the Colonel considered essential to locate the prototypes that had gone AWOL.

Gilmore only wanted them to shut up and let her do her job.

So the moment when the image of the blue SUV appeared on the screen, an '01 Pontiac Aztek with the journalist inside, tasted like heaven. It had been a traceable movement but, in the end, smart: the SUV was not registered under his name, but his mother's maiden, Lilian Davis. It took a couple more calls to discover he had left Seattle under Aiden Scott's name and now had become an easier target to find. Bingo.

Even cold as she seemed to be, the Director's face looked much more optimistic than minutes before and after giving her what seemed a proud smile, she left the room where Gilmore, along with a large number of soldiers and technicians, was working hard on both tasks. The young NSA Agent smiled to herself.

By the other hand, Colonel Lydecker wasn't happy at all. He'd tried everything, from a lecture about the importance of the missing soldiers to pure blackmail, and still she didn't give up. Hell, he knew that exposure was such a threat for all those years of work, but they had just lost thirty of their finest soldiers.

_No, we didn't lose them_, Lydecker admitted, at least for himself. It was a stupid failure on their reindoctrination of the former escapees and the education of the other ones, and he knew they should have done something major about it. What happens once can happen twice, and his kids still didn't understand that their lives was supposed to be like that. Being made, not born, said a lot.

Cale, by his part, couldn't do much. What Valentine had given him was almost useless; it might be the perfect beginning of a good conspiracy theory, yet it had no major funds. Even if he inquired in the Government, Cale would only find that Project Manticore was nothing more than a highly classified research for the health services of the US, nothing more than that.

But in the end, he knew Renfro was right.

Possibilities were endless. They could just say to the Committee that they'd had a genetic abnormality, such as 734. They could just lie, like they always did, but Cale only needed to say what Manticore was to the public. It didn't even matter if people believed him, it didn't matter if he had proof; for years the Committee had been waiting for the slightest mistake to shut them down. That was, because most of them weren't even sure what Manticore was up to.

Gilmore brought him back from his reverie. All the time she kept typing and talking and listening, until she turned to him and spoke the magic words. "We have a positive match of Cale's vehicle in Buffalo. Yum Yum Tree Motel, on the outskirts of town."

The expectant look of the Agent was rewarded with an order. "Call for Private Kent." Kent... rather X5-141 but using designations was strictly forbidden when talking to someone who didn't have a high level in the manticorian hierarchy. "Give him coordinates and all the details. I want to be provided direct communication with him... in private."

Gilmore nodded and not even a second later she was already setting the whole thing up. Moments later, after she linked him to 141, Lydecker had a brief moment to reflect on what was to happen. Logan Cale, a talented young man, full of ideals and certainly someone who could have a bright future, was about to die. Instructions were to take him alive to the base, interrogate him and retrieve any evidence he had about the Project; in fact, nobody had mentioned that he'd die, but Lydecker doubted that he would live to tell anybody about his lastest adventure. And although he had never become part of the death of a civilian - in his own country, at least -, after a while he agreed that it was the only way things could happen. After Cale's capture, all resources would be devoted to the recovery of the X5's... and there was nothing he wanted more than having his rebellious children back home.

* * *

He had liked her.

She was pretty, nice, an exotic beauty if his friend Will had seen her, and who knew, maybe in another circumstances it'd have worked out between them. Now, all things considered, she, with all her beauty and her smile and everything, was just a distraction. A sweet and wild distraction, like no other, to be put aside if he wanted to fulfill the mission that he had put himself into before leaving Gillette.

_Didn't you want just to run, to go home and lock yourself so those Manticore nuts never get close to you?_

So telling her that this was the end of their little adventure together was a rather difficult decision, but still was the better option he had. Otherwise, he might put her in danger; it might be just his general situation, yet he didn't want to have a chance to explore such scenario.

Curiosity hit him hard as his eyes locked on the _'No vacants'_ sign, glowing faintly in the daylight. Another one read _'Closed'_ in the main door, and closed it was... kind of weird considering it seemed pretty empty before he left for his unsuccessful search for food. The Motel desk clerk was nowhere to be seen and that sent way up the growing feeling that there was something amiss.

But hell, there was an enormous chance that an ultra-secret government agency was watching his steps. He had a right to be paranoid.

However, the rag doll that that flew out his room came a bit unexpected. Its moan of pain wasn't loud enough, yet Logan heard it and his heart sunk in recognition as the female body slid down the rough texture before ending in the base, unconscious. He swallowed hard and, with desperate leaps and bounds, he approached her.

She was wrapped in black pants and a red shirt he recognized as his, the soft hair on which he had run his fingers now embroiled in her face, mixed with blood...

"Max."

He drew his pistol in time, when a young man appeared next to him, his own gun pointed at his head. "They told me not to kill you," said he, lowering his aim to one of his feet, "and certainly I have to respect your life, not just because I was ordered to but because you are admirable. You must have the guts... if you mess with Manticore, you must quite brave. You could be a great soldier," he sort of lamented, wiping a small line of blood from his mouth with the back of his free hand.

Brave. Logan would have laughed at the word if it weren't because of the circumstances. He wasn't brave, of that much he was certain; rather, Logan had a problem measuring risks, as he thought right then, when he tightened his grip on the Glock, keeping his aim at the stranger's chest, the determination of pulling the trigger written all over his face.

"I would _not _do that," the man smirked, his gray eyes peering into the journalist's face. "They told me not to kill you, but not that I couldn't hurt you. If you dare to shoot, well, by the time the bullet reaches the place where I stand you'll be already disarmed and probably shot," another smirk, "I'll leave it up to you."

A chill ran through his back as he recalled those brief conversations with Valentine. Those soldiers he'd talked about, Manticore's sole reason to be, were supposed to be like that. Being faster, stronger, deadlier, not only than the average citizen, but than any other elite soldier. The best of the best.

But it didn't matter. The stranger said he was brave, and brave he would be to him. If it was true what he suspected, if he was one of them, well, it'd just happen what he had described. If it was an attempt to control him and keep him scared, Logan might have a chance to leave with his body intact.

He shot.

It happened as quickly as the guy assured, and less than a second later Logan was already disarmed. As his body was pressed against the tree, Logan didn't hear the shot; he wouldn't know if the weapon had a suppressor, hell, he wouldn't even know if he had shot at all, but he could certainly feel the pain burning through his flesh.

In the end, the aching sensation in his shoulder was only exceeded by his discovery, the surprising revelation that this man was indeed one of them. He _had_ to.

"You're an X5," he spat out the words, dimly aware of how heavy his body was.

He pretended not to hear him and, instead, withdrew the needle and waved the syringe in front of him. With all the love Logan had for needles... "I'm having some consideration to you," the young man spoke again, hissing, while letting go of him. "But it's all your fault that it didn't went into the right place. You're going to feel bad for a while before it knocks you out." He separated from him and motioned Logan to sit down, pointing the dry ground with his gun.

Logan did not want to comply, but as his legs gave up and his body fell next to Max's, he couldn't do more than keeping his stare at the man.

He looked away and knelt next to her, leading one of his hands to her slim neck, while the other brushed the dirty hair off her face. "Leave her," Logan mouthed as a new wave of dizziness hit him.

He didn't hear much of what he told him. "Calm down, just checking her vitals are alright. Colonel would kill me if she dies on me... or because of me. Not much difference here, anyway."

"She aiight?"

"You're truly concerned about her, huh?" his lips twitched with a barely suppressed grin, and thought of not saying anything else, but he did as Logan muttered something unintelligible and he glanced back at him. His eyes were pleading an answer and the soldier didn't feel like denying Logan what could be his death wish. "She'll be out for another seventeen minutes or so. She's more or less fine, that if you don't consider she has a concussion, but let me assure you she's going to heal fast."

The sedative finally rushed through his blood, his body giving up more quickly than the ease with which his uncle Jonas got drunk. He tried to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids were heavy as they hadn't been before, ears vaguely hearing the soldier's voice.

"X5-141 here Sir," he spoke after a long while, Logan initially believing someone else had arrived until the soldier paused and no other sound was to be heard. "Yes Sir, subject has been found and ready to be transported..."

And as the stranger kept talking, all sounds filling his ears like distant echoes, while the soft evening light faded around him. The reality was leaving him, second by second, and before it faded away, his eyes tried to find where Max was lying in a similar state. Perhaps only to pronounce an apology, perhaps to remember her by the last good thing he'd seen in his life -hell, he had just assumed he was about to die- but he couldn't found his voice... or her body.

"Sir, I also want to inform you that I have located to... Sir?... ugh, just what I needed. Buffalo's crappy reception," 141 growled. "But I guess the surprise of having 452 here will be bigger if he sees her with his own eyes."

Logan felt like the air left his lungs, and failed at muttering more words... or numbers for that matter. _452? _

No more coherent thoughts were formed in his head. Instead, he heard a deafening cry of pain.

Then came the silence, and, finally, darkness surrounded him.

* * *

**TBC...**

* * *

_And that's all for today. Wish you a wonderful day, or night, or whatever..._


End file.
